The Dragon Chronicles
by Epic Bad Ass
Summary: Damon Moran is a man with many, many titles, ex-Vigilant of Stendarr, Disgraced Prince, Wanted Murderer, and of course most famous of all, The Last Dragonborn. But just as every Hero has a story, every Legend has an origin, and the thing about legends, they aren't born in times of peace, which no one bothers to remember, they are born in blood and war and loss...shall we begin?


There were a handful of things Merrick was fairly confident he would live his whole life without seeing, for example he didn't expect the Dark Brotherhood to be getting into the business of contract cuddling anytime soon, was pretty sure there wouldn't come a day when a forest troll started pondering the nature of its own existence, and was reasonably certain that his wife, love of his life though she was, wouldn't be producing a meal fit for human consumption within his lifetime.

But of all things and possibilities that Merrick was fairly confident he would never encounter, the one thing that was really standing out in his mind as completely bat shit insane at the moment was the view of a massive ebony black dragon, with scales that gleamed like steel, foot and a half long fangs, and huge glaring eyes that seemed to contain enough rage and hatred to power every war from now till the end of time itself.

And yet, there it was. Merrick watched as the enormous terrifying monster took to the sky and began raining fiery hell down upon the landscape. Merrick's view of the world changed, and he could suddenly see cities burning, people screaming in the streets, entire forests awash with flame, everywhere he looked, death and destruction.

The view of the world changed again and suddenly the sky was filled with thousands of dragons and on the ground stood a single man, his face hidden from view by a black hood, a gut wrenching roar suddenly split the air and from the sky landed the monstrous dragon with the pitch black scales and terrifying eyes.

The dragon landed next to the man and unleashed another earth shattering roar, the man didn't seem impressed, he peeled back his hood and for the first time Merrick saw his face, the man had glowing emerald eyes that radiated with fire and skin made of scales that appeared harder than diamonds, but he wasn't an argonian, in fact he wasn't _any_ kind of race Merrick had ever seen.

The man opened his mouth and flashed the dragon a predatory grin, revealing teeth that were as sharp as a lion's.

The man opened his mouth to speak, "Al-

_Imperial Battlemage…sir…MERRICK!_

Merrick's eyes opened, and before he could process what he was doing he had his sword in his hand and was charging across his tent naked at a soldier standing in the doorway of his tent flap.

The soldier's face went white and he just about pissed himself before Merrick finally realized what he was doing, dropped the sword and unleashed a string of expletives at the man standing in his doorway, who was desperately trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" he shouted into the soldiers face.

"_Sir?"_ asked the soldier, trying to project on his face the image of a man who had _not_ just nearly soiled his trousers, he failed…._miserably_.

"You come barging in to a _commanding officer's_ tent while he's sleeping _ass naked_ in the middle of the night, if I don't start hearing a _compelling_ goddamn reason within the next _three seconds_ you're going to be digging out latrines with your hands and your teeth till you can't distinguish the difference between shit and a sweet roll!"

The soldier immediately snapped to attention, "_Sir!_ Your presence has been requested by the Emperor, I apologize for barging in but yelling for you to wake up for 3 minutes wasn't exactly having the intended effect!..._Sir!_"

Merrick fixed the soldier with a murderous glare, "Leave…_now_," he hissed

The soldier fled without looking back. Merrick turned and ran a hand through his hair, he hadn't actually intended to channel his old drill master right then, it was just a character flaw that tended to spring up when he found himself a few miles too far outside his element, but that dream…it wasn't a dream…it was a _vision_.

Merrick knew the difference; his family's blood ran rich with magic, one of side effects of that was a tendency for the unconscious mind to wander into realms better left unexplored. When it happened it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, almost like he had brushed his teeth with tar before going to bed, unpleasant didn't even come _close_ to describing the experience.

Merrick shook his head trying to make sense of it, _dragons… goddamn dragons._ There was just no fucking way that could mean anything good. However, he would have to meditate on it later, right now he had a war to contend with, and apparently it wasn't going wait till the morning.

Merrick flexed his muscles, shaking out the last bits of sleep he began looking around for his armor, spotting it in the corner of his tent he walked over, as he picked up his chainmail he gave it a casual inspection for cracks, it was force of habit more than anything else, adamantium didn't crack, _ever_.

He slid the chainmail on, then began picking up the rest of his armor, as the pieces strapped into place a static charge rippled across his skin and the hairs all over his body stood at attention as the enchantments stored in the metal began to take effect. His strength was marginally increased to offset the weight of the armor, and his body temperature cooled to lukewarm as the armor began to redirect thermal energy away from him.

Simple enchantments that tended to be non-reactive to most forms of magic, had he wanted he could have donned armor with enchantments capable of allowing him to arm wrestle an ogre, but such enchantments tended to be unpredictable, you get hit with a bolt of lightning and you feel nothing more than a light tingling sensation, cast a simple candlelight spell on yourself and your head literally explodes like a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs against the kitchen floor.

Merrick had actually seen that happen once before, in a moment that could most aptly be described as…_messy_ a former classmate had taken it upon himself to prove that he could enchant metal better than their instructor at the time, an aging orc with a foul temper and up until that point Merrick had assumed, _little_ sense of humor, but as it turned out, he had been wrong on the sense of humor; while Merrick and his fellow classmates were in a state of shock following having been decorated by slimy wet chunks of what was formerly a fellow student's brain, skull, teeth, and face, the old orc was bent over, laughing his ass off.

_Strange_, the memories that pop into your head when you haven't had a full night's sleep in three weeks…

Merrick picked up his broadsword and looked the blade over, adamantium like his armor; the blade dated all the way back to the second era, however unlike his armor it came with an extremely powerful enchantment, the power to cut through magical barriers, basically it could make bleed anything short of a god. It had been in his family for over a thousand years and had been personally enchanted by one of the greatest mages of the second era.

His father had given it to him upon graduation from the Imperial College of War Magic, the most elite magical college in the Empire, and the only place from which the Imperial Legion recruited their battlemages; extremely capable warriors specializing in the combination of powerful destruction magic and martial skill on the battlefield.

It was a long standing tradition in Daggerfall when the king had more than two sons the youngest would be expected to enlist in the Imperial Legion, as a gesture of loyalty and service to the Empire. Merrick's future had been mapped out for him before he was even born, a difficult concept for most people to understand, but for Merrick it was simply the reality of life.

Merrick read the engraved inscription on the hilt of the sword, _"Honor through Service,"_

"We serve at the pleasure of the people Merrick," his father had told him when he handed him the blade,

"And there is no greater honor, than to dedicate your life in the service of the common man,"

That was the closest Merrick's father had ever come to telling him he was proud of him.

Merrick sheathed the sword and exited his tent.

Fathers and sons, if a more complicated relationship existed in the world he didn't want to know of it. He swore he would do things differently than his father when it came time for him to have a son of his own. He would always be there, involved in his boy's life, there to offer guidance, teach him how to string a fishing pole, how to talk to girls, how to avoid pissing his mother off too much, whatever he needed to learn he would be there to teach it to him, he promised himself that his son would never doubt for one second that he had a father who loved him.

So far however, he didn't really feel he was winning any father of the year awards, his son, Lucas, had been born three years ago and in that time he had seen him a grand total of four times. War had a way of screwing up a person's plans, more than anything else in the world he wanted to be home safe with his family, instead he had spent most of the past three years getting his hands bloody while good people who wanted the same thing he did, died all around him.

Merrick surveyed the encampment, their forces here were getting substantial, already there were at least 130,000 soldiers, with another 20,000 from High Rock expected to arrive within the next 24 hours, along with his father and two elder brothers.

They were gearing up for one of the largest surprise assaults in the history of the Empire, in two days' time the army here would join two others stationed in opposite locations and together they were going to _take back the Imperial City_, assaulting it from three directions they would crush the Thalmor insects occupying it like ants beneath a boot. It was going to be _beautiful._

Merrick wasn't normally a violent man, to him violence was just a tool to be used to remove an obstacle from his path, it wasn't a way of life, and he didn't generally enjoy having to employ it, but for the Thalmor he was prepared to make an exception. In fact he was going to take great pleasure in seeing those sadistic motherfuckers ground into dust.

Merrick approached the Emperor's tent, stationed outside were six agents of the Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor's elite bodyguard, dangerous, fanatical men and women completely devoted to the Emperor's safety, who also knew more ways of killing people than a farmer knew of butchering a pig.

"Imperial Battlemage," they said by way of acknowledgement, stepping aside to let him pass.

_Imperial Battlemage_, even after over a year that title still felt somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, he was technically the third highest ranking member in the Imperial command structure, serving directly under the Emperor's personal command and outranked only by the Emperor himself and the Chancellor of the Elder Council.

He had earned his title by getting the Emperor out of the Imperial City alive, while his mentor and the greatest friend he had ever known commanded the 8th Legion in a doomed rear guard action to stall the Thalmor army banging on the city's walls long enough for Merrick and the Emperor to fight their way out.

After his mentor was killed in a forced duel with the leader of the Thalmor forces, Merrick inherited his title, and at 35 was the youngest Imperial Battlemage in over three centuries, a fact that everyone was pretty damn well aware of even if they didn't make their objections about it too vocal, the appointment of the Imperial Battlemage was the sole province of the Emperor himself and as a rule one does not question the Emperor's decision making.

Merrick entered the tent, within sat a gigantic table piled high with charts, maps, and schematics. Standing around the table were a dozen high ranking officers along with his majesty, Emperor Titus, Third of His Name, of the House of Meade, who was talking to a muscular young redguard wearing an amalgamation of dark leather and obsidian armor with a silver hammer stamped across the chest plate, the symbol of The Vigil.

The Emperor turned as Merrick walked in, "Merrick, glad you could join us, allow me to introduce you to Vigilant _Isran_," he paused and turned to the redguard, "_Is-raan_, am I pronouncing that correctly?"

"No, you're not, however I literally could not give a single shit about your syntax, I came here for a reason, and all due respect, I would appreciate us moving this discussion along,"

Stunned silence swept across the room as the officers standing around the table began radiating an aura of _"shocked and appalled,"_

The Emperor caught Merrick's eye and the two of them exchanged the barest hint of a smile, both himself and the Emperor were huge fans of, for lack of a better term… _balls_, and the redguard had them.

"What business does the Vigil have with the Empire?" demanded Merrick stepping forward

The Vigilants of Stendarr were a militant order founded almost 200 years ago during the Oblivion Crisis, a time when Mehrunes Dagon the God of Destruction ripped open the gates of Oblivion and for an entire year waged bloody fucking war against all of Tamriel, no one really knew for sure how many people died during that year but even the most conservative estimates put the body count somewhere in the tens of millions.

Formed in the middle of that giant clusterfuck of death and destruction was the Vigil, a religious order of deadly and almost psychotically enraged, mages and warriors who fought back against Mehrunes Dagon's forces, they ceased control of portals to his realm, and from those portals proceeded to wage a vengeful and frankly _terrifyingly _effective war against the Prince of Destruction on his own home turf, they caused the Dark God to bleed, and in the two centuries since had accumulated a powerful reputation as a group of people that were _seriously_ not to be fucked with.

Isran addressed Merrick's question, "I'm here because I intend to put Lord Naarifin's decapitated head in a box and send it back to the Aldmeri Dominion, with regards from the Vigil and _you_ are going to help me do it," he stated, turning to stare at Merrick.

A slightly differentkind of shock swept across the room as the redguard concluded that statement. Merrick's eyes took in the room, gauging people's reaction, plastered on everyone's face was a mixture of surprise and grim satisfaction.

Lord Naarifin was perhaps the most despised son of a bitch to walk the face of the world today. A high ranking member of the Thalmor, the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion, he was both one of the most powerful sorcerers alive and a complete sadist with an absolute hard on for death, destruction, and mayhem.

Merrick had last encountered Naarifin a little over a year ago, when he had broken through the Legion defenses at the Battle of the Imperial City, it wasn't enough for him that he and his army had slaughtered tens of thousands of civilians in taking the city, he had to take the survivors' pride as well.

After having held out long enough for the Emperor to make an escape, Merrick's predecessor surrendered to Naarifin in the hopes of preventing further bloodshed, but Naarifin had other ideas in mind. He challenged the former Imperial Battlemage to a duel, and to make things interesting he offered up stakes, win the fight and he would allow the remaining Legionnaires to leave the city unmolested, lose and they would all be executed, refuse to fight altogether and they would be executed anyway along with the civilian population of the city. The old Imperial Battlemage had fought well, just not well enough.

"Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth," said Merrick, breaking the silence "But why exactly is the Vigil picking a war with the Aldmeri Dominion?"

Isran shrugged, "We're not; we're simply communicating a message of what happens to someone when they violate Stendarr's Law, and screw with forces beyond their comprehension and ability to master, that message being '_step outside your bounds and we will collect your fucking head_',"

One of the legates standing around the table gave an approving chuckle.

"And if they choose to interpret that as a declaration of war instead of just a simple friendly message?" asked the Emperor, rejoining the conversation.

Isran smirked, "They won't,"

Merrick knew he was right, when you're fighting a war you're looking to make allies not more enemies, and while the Vigil had nowhere near the strength of the Aldmeri Dominion or the Empire they were pretty damn far from weak, choosing to add them to their roster of enemies would be a potentially lethal mistake on the part of the Thalmor.

"Exactly what forces beyond his comprehension and ability to master is Naarifin screwing with?" asked Merrick.

"He aims to create a Soul Vacuum, with himself as the conduit," replied Isran coldly.

The color slowly drained from Merrick's face, "_That's impossible_," he said in a voice just barely above a whisper.

"Naarifin believes he's found a way, and he has me convinced enough to be here talking to you, so how about we just assume for a moment it _is_ in fact _possible_," replied Isran, his voice dripping condescension.

The Emperor turned to Merrick, "What the hell is he talking about?"

Merrick swallowed, "A Soul Vacuum is the void created by a Soul Trap spell, it rips a person or creature's spirit energy from their body upon death by sucking it into a vacuum, and if you have one handy to act as a conduit, into a soul gem where the spirit energy is stored. But there is a theory in certain _dark_ magical circles that a conduit need not be limited to a soul gem; that under the right set of circumstances a _living body_ may also act as a conduit, binding another person's spirit energy to their own and using it to amplify their own power."

Stunned silence followed the end of Merrick's explanation.

Merrick was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer to his next question but had to ask it anyway, "Exactly how large of a soul vacuum do you believe Naarifin's planning on creating?"

Isran locked eyes with Merrick, "One about roughly the size and dimensions of the Imperial City,"

The color drained from the faces of everyone in the room, this was trouble on a scale none of them had ever really encountered before, which was impressive considering they were in the fifth year of a war that had already claimed over two million lives, and that was just on the Legion's end of things, Merrick wasn't even counting the untold number of civilians that had been caught up in the fighting or the casualties suffered by the Aldmeri Dominion which he had a hunch were equally as gruesome.

"Why are you coming to us? Why not take care of this yourselves?" demanded Merrick

Isran smirked, "Don't feel you're up to the challenge Imperial Battlemage? Have to say I was expecting more from the Empire's right hand, the final and _absolute _authority on all things _magic_,"

All eyes in the room turned to Merrick who in turn flashed Isran a humorless grin, "I'm just curious to know what's preventing _Stendarr's Justice_ from being carried out here on Nirn, don't tell me you boys are having a _recruitment_ problem,"

Isran smirked, "I already told you, we're communicating a _message_, and a decapitated head in a box is only half of it, _you_…are the other half,"

Merrick choked down an irritated grimace, "You want to team up with us to show the Thalmor what will happen if they're going to practice dark magic in defiance of Stendarr's Law, which is the Imperial Legion gains a new ally,"

Isran gave another smirk and tapped his nose with a gloved finger.

"You do realize of course that will succeed in accomplishing exactly _two_ things…_jack_ and _shit_. They'll just jiggle the handle to make sure the doors are locked before they go about their mischief," replied Merrick coldly.

Isran gave a modest shrug, "I'm a little shy to admit it but I've actually only been on the job a couple years now, sorry to tell you; _I_ don't issue the orders in my organization, I just _follow_ them,"

Merrick grinned, "What's that old expression...ahhh now I remember, _out of sight, out of mind_, am I right?"

Isran returned the grin, "Actually, I think the saying goes something like…_go fuck yourself_…if I'm not mistaken,"

Merrick was preparing a reply when the Emperor decided to raise his voice, "ENOUGH!"

"One fight at a time, if you don't mind," he said scathingly, turning to Isran he said, "I assume since you've come to us, you have a plan in mind?"

Isran nodded, "I can get a five person team inside the Imperial City undetected, myself, my new _friend_ the Imperial Battlemage, and any three others you want to bring along, from there we track down Lord Naarifin and proceed to _lighten_ some of the load on his shoulders,"

"What the fuck is it with you and decapitation?" demanded Merrick wearily

Isran turned to Merrick, "That's just what you _do_ with monsters, or did daddy not read you any bedtime stories growing up?"

A vein started pulsing on the Emperor's forehead, "_So help me gods if you two don't_-"

"Relax, sir," said Merrick stepping in, "We're just…_feeling each other out_, right Isran?" said Merrick calmly, when what he _really_ wanted to do was see how well a member of the Vigil could cope with a _right cross to the jaw_.

Isran smiled, "I'm thinking…_friendship bracelets_…how bout you?"

"Not to interrupt," said one of the Legates standing around the table,

"But just a _few _things I'd like to point out. The Thalmor have converted the Imperial City into a gi-_fucking_-gantic army/naval base and are using it as a staging area for their northern push, with about a half million of their soldiers calling it home, exactly what is a five person team supposed to accomplish, other than possibly alerting the Thalmor that a much larger army is on the way. We've spent the past nine months shuffling forces into place for this assault, that's some twelve to fifteen thousand miles on the road, over two dozen teleportation relays, and around sixteen territories left undefended while we get into a position to deliver the Aldmeri Dominion the mother of all ass whoopings,"

The Legate turned to the vigilant, "No offense, but why the hell would we risk that to try and kill some asshole whose going to dead anyway a few hours after we come knocking on his door?"

"Tullius makes a point," said the Emperor reasonably.

Isran sighed in irritation, "Exactly how fucking stupid do you think we are?"

Merrick opened his mouth,

"It was a rhetorical question!" snapped Isran.

"Let me paint you just a_ few _possible scenarios. You go marching into that city before Naarifin is dealt with, and any soldier that dies, on either fucking side, will only serve to increase Naarifin's own power till he literally explodes from the inside out taking the _entire city_ with him or _maybe_ he doesn't, _maybe_ he fucking ascends to godhood and we have a problem on our hands we haven't seen the likes of since the Oblivion Crisis. I'm not going to pretend to know exactly what's going to happen if you go marching into that city halfcocked, but I will tell you this, _it will haunt your fucking dreams for the rest of your lives_, however _long_ that may be, "

The room fell silent for a while, not even Tullius seemed able to come up with a reply to _that_.

"So, a five person team you say, what the hell happens when we get inside the city, other than you know, finding ourselves hilariously outnumbered and outmatched?" asked Merrick humorlessly, finally breaking the silence.

"I have a plan to even up the odds," stated Isran with a cold smile, "You ever wonder what happens to your officers when they're captured by the Dominion?"

"They get shipped to Summerset for interrogation," stated Merrick coldly.

"Not anymore they don't," replied Isran, "Ever since they took the city last year, captured officers get sent to the old Imperial Prison, you didn't really think the Thalmor would just let three thousand empty jail cells go to waste did you?"

"We have no intelligence corroborating that, exactly how the hell did the Vigil come by this information?" demanded Tullius.

"Same way we discovered the location of this encampment, our eyes and ears are everywhere, a bear takes a shit in the forest we _hear_ about, on the other hand what _Imperial Intelligence_ is unaware of would fill a fucking _library_,"

Angry eyes turned towards Isran, "Oh don't get me wrong, we're actually _rooting_ for you guys in this fight, but _shit_ if you don't make it difficult,"

Tullius turned to the Emperor, "Sir, respectfully request permission to teach this ingrate some manners," he said in a hiss.

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, "Why? Because he _hurt_ your feelings? _Denied_,"

Isran gave the Emperor an appraising look before continuing to speak, "The prison is currently occupied by around 1,500 captured officers, all well fed and in relatively good health, wouldn't due to have a prisoner die of starvation before the interrogators can squeeze them for everything they're worth after all. Broken out of their cells and armed with weapons, _inside_ the Thalmor's own defenses, and all sporting a powerful desire to inflict a little fear and suffering of their _own_…well…that's not an army, that's _terror_ worth soiling your trousers over."

The entire room gave a dark chuckle of agreement,

"We leave when you're ready," said Isran turning to Merrick, "Word of advice, whoever you decide to bring along with us, they had better be _mean motherfuckers_, and they need to be at peace with the fact that they probably won't make it out of this alive,"

"Don't tell me how to command my people, and I won't tell you how to how to remove heads from shoulders," replied Merrick dryly

Isran grinned, "Fair enough,"

Merrick watched as the sun began to creep over the snowcapped mountains, they were now just 36 hours away from the battle that would decide the fate of the Empire, win or lose, the world was never again going to be the same, Merrick could only hope that would be a good thing.

Once the remainder of their forces arrived from High Rock, every soldier here would be teleported just two miles north of the Imperial City and from there they would begin their march, this was by no means a small feat; the Empire had virtually _bankrupted _itself in acquiring the resources needed for this assault. An act of teleportation on a scale like this required around 200 mages with expertise in the ridiculously complicated field of teleportation magic along with the several thousand filled soul gems needed to rip open a hole large enough in the space/time continuum to suck through an army of over 100,000 and teleport them nine hundred miles along with all the equipment needed to lay siege to an extremely well-fortified city.

Multiply that budget by twelve for the teleportation relays they had already traveled through to get here, and again by three for the two armies in position elsewhere, and basically the Empire was all in, victory or defeat, there would be no follow up assaults, after this battle the Empire would be officially out of steam, but with any luck at all, so too would the Dominion.

Merrick turned his view away from the sunrise and towards the three figures approaching out of the morning fog,

"I hope you managed to get some sleep, because if you didn't you're going to sure as shit wish you had,"

"Oh, no need to worry," said a tall man with long blonde hair, "I'm a _morning_ person," he said cheerfully

"You're an unnatural abomination is what you are," muttered a wiry figured woman with a dark cloak pulled down over her head.

"Mornings are _evil_," she hissed

The tall blond man reached over and flipped the dark cloak off her head, revealing a dark elf with strangely golden hair and hard determined features.

The elf shielded her eyes from the glare of the morning sun, and proceeded to slug the blond man _hard_ in his shoulder,

"Asshole!" she snapped

The blond man laughed while rubbing his shoulder.

A third figure approached behind them, a slender attractive woman in her early thirties wearing dark brown leather armor, completely covered with pouches and an impressively _wide_ assortment of throwing knives, in addition to this display of overkill sheathed along her waist was a three foot long _akaviri katana_; the trademark weapon of the Blades.

All three of the individuals standing before Merrick were pretty damn well armed and dangerous looking, the tall blonde man was wearing leather and steel armor with swirling Nordic Runes carved into it, and carried on his back was a huge round shield with a white horse painted onto it and sheathed at his waist was a steel longsword with what Merrick knew to be an _exceptionally_ sharp and flexible blade.

The dark elf wore gray chitinous armor made from the shells of ash scorpions; vicious creatures hailing from the island of Vvardenfall in Morrowind whose shells were so durable they could crawl through molten lava and borough through hard stone; or at least they _could_ have, before being blasted into extinction by eruption of Red Mountain several years ago.

Slung across the elf's back was a longbow with a full quiver of arrows, and across her waist were sheathed two curved daggers with white blades carved from mammoth ivory.

Merrick raised an eyebrow at the elf, "You know, for someone who has more training in stealth than a nord has in drinking, you tend to stand out like a wolf in a nursery,"

The elf gave off her best high society smile, "Oh, you know a lady _has_ to accessorizesir,"

The tall blond man gave off a theatrical coughing sound, "Umm, I'm sorry did you just say _lady_?"

The elf held up her fist, "You want another one Lippy?"

The nord threw up his hands and backed away, "Nope, I'm good,"

The elf exchanged a grin with the woman in leather armor, "_Boys_, aren't they just _adorable?_"

"Sure," said the woman, "if by adorable you mean smelly, thick headed, and irritating, then yes, they're absolutely _precious_,"

The nord stuck out his chest and threw Merrick a confident look, "you know if the two of us band together, I think we can take em'"

Merrick grinned, "Balgruuf, as your friend and commanding officer, it's my duty to inform you, you're _fucking delusional,_"

Balgruuf shot Merrick a toothy grin, "Sorry to correct you there sir, but that's _not_ how you pronounce the word _awesome,"_

Merrick turned his gaze to the elf, "Hit him again Irileth,"

"God damn it, that _hurt!_" shouted Balgruuf, rubbing a new bruise on his shoulder.

"Can I get in on this?" asked the woman in leather armor,

"Sorry Delphine, maybe later, _now_ we have business to attend to,"

Merrick had just finished bringing them up to speed on the details of the plan when he caught sight of Isran approaching in the same dark obsidian armor he had been wearing a few hours earlier, but now in addition to the armor attached on either side of his waist were two wicked looking war axes with runes carved into them, and across his back was strapped some sort of bronze mechanical contraption Merrick had never seen the likes of in his life.

"What in the name of the Nine Divines is _that_ fucking thing?" demanded Merrick, pointing to Isran's back.

"Call it a projectile weapon of sorts," said Isran, "The Vigil has access to a _variety_ of instruments the common folk are pretty simply better off not knowing about, but given that you aren't so common and that _these_ nice people," said Isran gesturing to Balgruuf, Irileth, and Delphine, "are probably going to be dead before the day is out, I figure there's no harm in letting you see a few of our toys,"

"This is Isran, he's an asshole," explained Merrick.

"_Gotcha,"_ said Balgruuf, turning to Isran, "My name's Balgruuf, endanger the lives of any of my friends and I'll rip out your intestines and feed them to you, _that_ having been said, it's always an honor meeting a member of the Vigil," he said, holding out his hand.

Isran clasped the hand in a firm shake, "Oh the honor's all mine," said Isran with a friendly smile.

"So," said Isran turning to Merrick, "You ready to make with the magic, and zap us where we need to go?"

Merrick turned to his people, "Everyone has everything they need?"

They all answered with a variety of wants and wishes, ranging from a barrel of rum, to pearl ear rings, and ending with a request from Balgruuf for a couple of "fair maidens" willing to "polish the hilt of his sword".

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, _my_ own goddamn fault for asking," stated Merrick wearily.

"Stand close to me so I can rearrange your worthless fucking molecules,"

Before Merrick could do anything however the air exploded in a massive flash of light and suddenly several hundred badly wounded soldiers were lying moaning and bleeding on ground that less than three seconds before had been completely barren.

"GET THE HEALERS!" roared a voice somewhere in the distance.

The world seemed to slow to a crawl as Merrick stared numbly at the mass of wounded and dying soldiers lying bleeding on the ground, his mind was having a little trouble processing what was happening, where had they come from? They weren't here a second ago…why are they bleeding…why are they…Merrick suddenly caught sight of a torn and battered banner stretched out across several motionless bodies covering their faces from view, stamped on the banner was the emblem of a bronze lion, the Royal Crest of Wayrest, a vassal state under the Kingdom of Daggerfall…these were the reinforcements from High Rock…these were his father's troops.

"_No,"_ whispered Merrick,

"GODDAMNIT WE NEED HEALERS!"

Merrick snapped out of his reverie and began moving his limbs, directing his body to the voice and after another few seconds his mind followed too. He took stock of the situation, people were dying, and that needed to be dealt with, everything else could wait. Balgruuf, Irileth, Delphine, and even Isran were already moving among the wounded to see what help they could lend. Horns began blowing as the watch sounded the alarm and soldiers roused from their sleep began running half naked out of their tents to see what the hell was going on.

Merrick reached the voice that had been shouting and stopped dead as he realized he knew who the voice belonged to, it was Nathaniel Thorne, the ancient, wizened old mage who served as his father's chief steward, and he was kneeling over a man with a massive sword gash across his stomach, his insides laid open for the whole world to see, Merrick knew this man too…it was his eldest brother Alaric.

"ALARIC!"

Merrick kneeled over his brother's body and extended his arms over where the blood was seeping out of him. Reaching within himself he connected to the magic in his blood and took hold of it; an electric surge of invincibility washed over his body as he felt the power rise up inside of him like a tsunami, the air around his hands began to radiate with a fiery golden light as he directed the magic inside him to his palms and shaped it into a warm healing energy.

Closing his eyes to concentrate he placed his hands on his brother's chest and commanded the healing energy using the power of his will to flow _into_ his brother, bind up his wounds, and make him _whole_ again.

When Merrick opened his eyes and looked down the only difference he could see was that the blood wasn't seeping out as much, but that was probably just because their wasn't that much left to seep; his brother was dying and magic couldn't help him.

"_Magebane,"_ he hissed venomously

"Yes," croaked Nathaniel, tears angrily pouring down his eyes.

"I'm sorry Merrick," he said, in a pained voice

Magebane, was a foul and twisted weed that had come into the world shortly after the end of the Oblivion Crisis, after Mehrunes Dagon's connection to Tamriel had been severed and the portals to his realm destroyed, one day the evil looking plant had begun to spring up all over the ruins of the destroyed Oblivion Gates; not merely an eye sore, the plant came imbued with a strange and dangerous magical property, the ability to amplify the power of Daedric Sorcery while simultaneously blocking the body's connection to Aetherius, the place from whence light and natural magic flowed, which just so happened to be the only magic that could _heal wounds_.

Over the past 200 years or so Magebane had become the poison and opiate of choice for Daedra worshippers, demented assassins, crazed sorcerers, and _Thalmor Justicars_.

"_How,"_ demanded Merrick, rage and hatred boiling inside him like a volcano ready to explode, he wanted to kill something, _needed_ to punish someone for what had happened here.

"We were encamped a few miles outside Evermor when a Thalmor army came out of the south marching on the city, they weren't there for us, didn't even know we were there, they just wanted the city. I told your father to let them have it, we could take it back once the Imperial City was back under our control, but he wasn't having _any_ of it, so we put our forces between the city and the Thalmor and what followed was complete and utter _devastation_,"

Nathaniel ran his hands through his white hair and started shaking, "So many dead Merrick, you can't even _imagine_, just…_dead_…_thousands of them_…all _dead_," he dropped his head and started to sob uncontrollably.

"My father…Marcus…are they?"

"We were making them _bleed_ Merrick," hissed Nathaniel angrily.

"Their entire force was getting ready to collapse in upon itself, and then…I don't know how it happened exactly but suddenly they were just _there_…_atronachs_…hundreds of them, someone must have snuck through our lines with a case of summoning scrolls or something I'm not sure…but next thing you know…some people were being burned to ash while others were having their blood frozen inside their veins…"

"Nathaniel," said Merrick in a strained voice, "Where's my father and Marcus?"

Merrick looked up from his brother and stared at Nathaniel who was wearing a confused expression on his face.

"_Goddamnit_ Nathaniel! Where are they!?" roared Merrick

Nathaniel stared off into space, "Your father ordered our surviving mages to teleport the wounded and charged Marcus with commanding their defense while they made preparations, after that he took off with the cavalry and charged into the Thalmor lines…last I saw him was through a looking glass as he sliced the head off the Thalmor general…his horse went down after that…Marcus took an arrow through the heart while trying to drag some wounded soldier to safety…that boy always thought more heart than sense…more like his mother than his father…but _you_ Merrick…you're so much like your old man it's ridiculous," Nathaniel trailed off and stopped talking.

"They're _dead?_ They're _all _dead?"

Disbelief washed over Merrick, there was just no way this was _actually_ happening to him, it had to be a joke, a dream, some sort of fucked up nightmare, because there was absolutely no fucking way that his father and brothers could simply die and leave him all alone to pick up the pieces…there was just _no_ way…

"Merrick?" croaked a voice

Merrick looked down and saw that Alaric had his eyes open and was staring up at him with a pained expression.

"Where the hell am I?" he groaned, attempting to rise.

Merrick placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down, "You're with the main army about fifty miles north of Bruma…you need to sit still Alaric…it's bad…but with the healers here…you're going to be just _fine_," said Merrick, with what he hoped was a smile.

"The sword sliced open my stomach, not my brain Merrick," coughed Alaric

Merrick gave a dry chuckle, "Never could pull one over on you could I? Remember the time me and Marcus lit your stable on fire and tried to blame it on the Diranni's? You must have chased our asses through half of Daggerfall,"

"Because of you two assholes I was disqualified from the Grand Tournament…kind of hard to joust when your registered horse is running mad through the countryside with its tail on fire,"

Merrick laughed, "Whatever happened to that horse?"

"Knock it off Merrick," breathed Alaric, trying to keep a hold of his voice, "Quit trying to distract me, Dad's dead…_Marcus_ too…and_ I'm_ not that far behind,"

"Alaric-" began Merrick, but his brother cut him off.

"_No_, Merrick, we need to _talk_, actually _talk_,"

Merrick sighed, "Fine," he said

"_You're_ the new King of Daggerfall, and by right of that title, Lord and Ruler of all of High Rock,"

Merrick didn't want to talk or even _think_ about that right now, unfortunately he wasn't about to deny his own brother a dying wish.

"Yeah," agreed Merrick, humorlessly.

"You're position is _weak _Merrick…after this…the other kingdoms will be _pissed_, they'll want to wrest control of High Rock away from Daggerfall, they'll rise up and _you_ will need to be the one to _beat them back down,_"

"Yeah," agreed Merrick again, with even less humor.

"We serve the _people_ Merrick," stated Alaric, echoing the words of their father.

"The other royal families fail to grasp that _simple fucking concept_…it's on _you_ Merrick…it's _all_ on you,"

"Yeah_, it is_!" snapped Merrick, "Because the three of you decided to die, and leave me to clean up your fucking mess!"

Alaric and Merrick stared at each other for a while, "Did that make you feel any better?" asked Alaric.

"No, it _didn't_" replied Merrick dryly.

Alaric smiled, "You make me proud little brother, you made Dad proud too; I bet you never knew it, but he talked about you as much as he talked about anything, his _son_, the _Imperial Battlemage_…don't worry Merrick…you _got_ this,"

Alaric's eyes slowly fluttered shut, "…you got this…"

Alaric's body went rigid and Merrick put two fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, he didn't find one.

"Honor through Service," whispered Merrick through gritted teeth.

He slammed his fists into the ground and unleashed a vicious, magically enhanced roar that filled the camp like a flood and was heard for miles; rage was coursing through his blood, he'd never wanted to kill so much in his entire life, he'd never considered himself a violent man, but right now he would give anything to have an entire battalion of Thalmor standing right in front of him so that he could rip the skulls from their spines and toss them away laughing.

Merrick was still shaking with fury when he felt a soft hand touch his shoulder, for some reason he couldn't even begin to explain this simple gesture evaporated his anger, leaving him with only sorrow in its wake, he dropped his head and began to cry.

Slender arms wrapped around him and pulled him tight against a leather wrapped chest, Merrick wished they hadn't as this only made him sob harder and more uncontrollably

A warm cheek pressed against his own, and a voice began whispering in his ear, "It's okay, it's okay,"

Merrick turned his head and saw Delphine resting her chin on his shoulder, he immediately started to stand up, but she held him in place with a surprisingly firm grip, Merrick not having the energy to fight her was forced to accept this gesture of kindness, eventually, after his tears stopped flowing she relaxed her grip and let him go.

Merrick began to rise and look around the clearing, the camp was now fully awake and had gone to work treating the wounded, a small circle of soldiers, drawn no doubt by his roar had attempted to gather around him only to be viciously dispersed by hard shoves from Balgruuf and Irileth, ordering them to get back to work before they joined the wounded lying on the ground.

"We still have a mission to complete," stated Merrick in a hollow voice, "Let's get to it,"

* * *

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading everyone! By now I'm notorious for leaving you on a cliff hanger for years at a time (To any Project Ice Man fans out there, if you have any unanswered questions, feel free to shoot me an email and I'll clear up what I can, as it is _literally_ the least I can do) but this story is going to be different, come hell or high water I promise it will have a conclusion. It will also, I am sad to say, be the last fan fiction I ever write.

I have a fully fleshed out original scifi/fantasy universe that I will be working in here on after, and you're just going to have to take my word for it at the moment, it is balls to the wall fucking awesome, and I hope to have a finished product on bookshelves for you to peruse in the not too distant future. In the meantime though, I wanted to contribute one last fan fiction to this awesome site while further honing my skills as a writer at the same time. I hope you enjoy :-)


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